


Ginevra's Luna 🌙

by mumumuji



Category: Emma - Jane Austen, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Lesbian Relationship, Carrows Reign at Hogwarts, Dumbledore's Army, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Headmaster Severus Snape, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Seventh Year, Horcruxes, Romance, Sexual Tension, The Deathly Hallows, The Quibbler, Wizarding Wars (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-17 00:00:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29832918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mumumuji/pseuds/mumumuji
Summary: Ginny Weasley is captivated by her best friend. Clever, spoiled and witty Luna Lovegood brightens the landscape of the approaching Wizarding War with charm and a personal touch. However their closeness begins to reveal hidden feelings and Ginevra soon begins questioning her own sexuality.Canon/Deathly Hallows/Romance
Relationships: Luna Lovegood/Ginny Weasley
Kudos: 11





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello readers! I’ve had the idea to write this crossover for a while and while it had never occurred to me to ship GiLuna in Canon, I was captivated by the idea of writing a sweet romance in the time of war. Also this is my first canon following story. Enjoy!

Ginny nearly smacks the Quaffle straight into her brother’s head. Ron flinches only seconds later and dives down to fetch the ball. Much like Luna, he had the unfortunate habit of not being able to keep secrets for long. Normally he wouldn’t miss the shot, but today he was fumbling and missed the third goal in a row.

The ball flew straight through the his goal-hoop on their pitch and Ginny strikes again. This time the Quaffle smacks his broom and sends him twisting into the hanging branches. Not quite as strong as she’d wanted to hit him.

  
“The Hell?”

He’d been acting strange since they’ve been sent home that summer. Now the strangeness had a name: Dumbledore’s Mission. To think, her bumbling brother was invited by the Headmaster to retrieve the Horcruxes with Harry and Hermione and she’d not been invited.

“My bad,” she says with scorn.

“Right.”

He grabs the Quaffle and descends to the ground with a hurt expression. Since she made the Quidditch team last year, Harry had been raving about her aim and speed and Ron was having none of it. He stretches demonstratively and arches his back before facing her.

“You’d have caught that one if you’d payed more attention,” she consoles him.

Unbelievable. He was polishing off invisible dust before placing the ball back in the chest. The way he did it, picking off every last bit of bark from it’s unfortunate meet with the tree, as though he intended to come back and play tomorrow. Tomorrow, he’d be at Privet Drive rescuing Harry from his terrible family and bringing him back here. The day after, they’d be out finding the Horcruxes.

He hadn’t mentioned any of it directly, but he also never discards the bottom parchment when writing his letters. This way, she was able to tell that he’d been writing to Hermione about Dumbledore’s task to collect the Horcruxes and defeat the Dark Lord.

Hermione was also a twisty thing, keeping the mission a secret from her. Some best friend she was. Harry was too absorbed with the loss of his favorite Headmaster to respond to any of her owls. In fact, it was Luna who’d coyly written to him over the summer and managed (in her usual way) to find out that they were going to collect the Horcruxes.

Obviously Ginny had been wronged and was now in quiet contras with the entire trio. Hermione- for being a shitty friend, Ron- for being too stupid to hide his letters, Harry, for obvious reasons pertaining to the heart. He’d broken up with her saying it was ‘for their own good’. Bullshit!

Thankless sheep, the three of them. Their whole Army would never been possible had not it been her, Luna and Neville. Or were they stupid enough to think that Hermione’s complete lack of charisma and Ron’s lack of success with the female sex or even Harry’s status would not have been advertisement enough to gather the sheer amount of people to join Dumbledore’s Army?

No, it was all Ginny and Luna.

Parvati had come because Ginny had told her Seamus Finnagan was looking at her in Transfiguration in ‘that way’. Seamus came because Lavander Brown had been ‘talking about how cute he was’. And Lavander because of Ron. And Ron because of Hermione and his brother Fred. And Fred because of Angelina Johnson (and she later learned that George came for that same reason). Zach for Luna. Everyone had joined for a chance to socialize with their crushes.

Mostly the scheme was Luna’s idea. Naturally, the witch had been a matchmaker and was very scheming underneath her docile and quirky exterior. And Ginny learned she rather shamelessly coupled up and spun her webs of intrigue with her casually dropped comments between classes.

People might think twice to listen to gossip spread from Lavander or Parvati’s lips, but when Luna had done it, it came off as a natural observation: not pertaining to any reaction. She’d lower her copy of the Quibbler during the break and mention that Seamus had not answered Macgonogall’s question because he’d been too busy checking out Parvati’s hair for pixies. The next day, Parvati had worn her hair differently and had been checking to see if Seamus noticed. Then she’d casually brought up that Seamus turned his goblet into toothpaste because of the Rotfang conspiracy and that Parvati was worried he’d lose his front teeth and not be as handsome anymore.

In that almost pin-pointed way, she’d secretly coupled 26 only slightly related wizards and convinced them that Dumbledore’s Army would be the perfect set-up for a romance.

Now, despite all their efforts, neither Ron nor Harry nor Hermione thought Ginny was good enough for the Headmaster’s mission. Very insulting.

Now two blonde heads of hair appear on the terrain. Luna and her father look equally distressed and are scattering towards the Burrow. She is close enough to see Luna searching for something.

Then her eyes fall on her. Silver specks dance in the blue like stars among the moon. For a moment, she notices they linger a second too long and with such intention. Her lips are moving, but Ginny is too far to hear.

A crash, like a canon sends her tumbling to the ground and the moon fades from sight.


	2. Chapter 2

Luna Lovegood, clever, lovely and doted-on, had a happy home and a pleasant disposition. When she was very young, her mother (an incredibly bright witch, much like Hermione) had died from an unfortunate, revised spell leaving little Luna to live with her father Xenophilius in their Rook House just minutes from the Burrow in Ottery St. Mary. Despite these circumstances, she always seemed to be happy and calm and a little outer-worldly.

Even now, she charms the sugar pot away from Arthur and sets it on a further table.

“Don’t eat that. Father says the RotFang Conspiracy is going around in the Ministry.”

Arthur grumbles and stubbornly pours himself three spoonfuls. “How can you think of sugar when we’d just witnessed an air raid?”

“Arthur I really don’t think you should be Floo-ing into work today,” his wife says. “And I really think we should cancel the wedding.”

Ginny waves off the ice-pad Molly has been holding to her head and adjusts herself on the couch. Her ears still ringing after she fell from the broom. Not unlike when Fred got hit by a Bludger and had to spend weeks in the Hogwarts Infirmary.

“That you should,” Xenophilius steps in. “Now is not the time for matrimony. In fact, my own daughter has recently married off the older Mrs. Fawcett to one of my best editors and now they’ve quit the Quibbler. Do you have any idea how hard it is to find a good editor?”

“We know papa, but it’s awfully romantic. They’re a beautiful match.” Luna says this in a singsong voice and her hair curls at the ends in happiness. “Fleur and Bill are also made for each other Mrs. Weasley. I can’t wait!”

“Well I don’t think you should be making any more of your matchmaking predictions. You are so good that it endangers us all. Weddings in the time of _war_!” Xenophilius exclaims in clear dissatisfaction. Unplanned and unpredictable events of the sort strike a nerve with him.

“Oh, oh! Don’t say _that_ word in this house,” Molly takes her head into her hands. “It’s bad enough we won’t be sending our kids to Hogwarts this year.”

The ice pad swinging to the side, Ginny shoots out of bed. No Hogwarts this year?

“When were you going to tell me that?”

“Ginny love, I thought it was implied. With Albus gone, poor soul, I won’t let you step a foot in the castle. Severus is a man of questionable motives and with deep ties to the Dark Lord. No, something dark is brewing in that school.”

Ron looks away, hoping to make his hasty escape. Ginny knows why. The Horcruxes. He hasn’t told his mum about them either and if Molly knew, she would not let him leave even a meter away from her apron strings. 

Fred and George have long graduated and are running their trick shop in Diagon Alley. Percy is with the Ministry (much to Molly’s dismay).

“And Luna? Come on mum, we will keep each other company.”

“Xenophilius, you can’t be serious, the Carrows-“

“I don’t see why my daughter should not finish her degree,” Xenophilius begins. “Her news would help the Quibbler.”

“So Luna will spy for-“

“Ginny, Luna, go upstairs the both of you. And take Ron with you!” Molly cries. The door shutting behind them.

\--

“Papa says he wants me to gather information for the Quibbler. Isn’t that exciting?”

Luna’s head is resting on the adjacent pillow and her white waves intertwine with the cotton pillows of Ginny’s bed. They flow gently by her hand and when she touches them, they smell of her. Ginny runs her fingers through the strands, soft like baby’s breath.

“You’re going to start up the Army?”

Luna bites her lip, and her lashes sweep over each other. “It’s your idea. You should be the one to do it.”

Ginny elongates the idea into the river of blonde. Tracing her eyes up to the place where Luna’s jaw meets her neck. She swallows and the apple rolls down towards her breast. She watches as it ebbs and flows with her own breath.

“I should.”

Luna, the angel, all alone in the black castle they’ve called home for nearly six years. Luna among the darkened corridors with her light swallowed by the Carrows. Malfoy’s hand as he gropes her from the back. And a good thing too if it was Malfoy, at least the boy has a soul. Theodore Knot or his likes would do more than mock her if they caught her in the halls after practice.

Not just her, she reminds herself, Neville, Parvati, Colin, Angelina. Anything could happen this year at the school and yet mum insists she spend it here, helping the Order from within. Useless and stupefied.

No.

Ginny Weasley vows to do whatever it takes to enter Hogwarts this year and restart the Army. For Luna, for Harry, for her brothers, for her father who works endlessly at the Ministry, for Dumbledore’s sake.

“I’ve interrupted a deep thought, haven’t I?”

Her skin prickles when the branches of the oak tree skin the shingles.

“Were you out hunting the Nargles this aft?”

Luna giggles. “They took papa’s shoes. But I managed to make you this.”

She reaches into her bag that’s tossed beside the bed post, and extends a Butterbeer cork necklace.

“You can’t be losing your shoes, Seeker.”

Ginny runs her fingers and slips the odd trinket over her neck. “I can handle a bit of rough trekking.”

The soft cheeks light up with humour. Luna talks about the strange constellations and about Bill’s wedding falling right under Capricorn’s Moon. For a moment, the lingering aftertaste of apple pie at dinner emerges on her breath. Then her lashes drift off into a deep slumber. Ginny pulls the blanket over her chest. The heartbeat beating slower and slower as she gapes her mouth open.

At that moment, Ginny vows to do anything. Lie and steal. Anything so she can find herself in Hogwarts again. For the Resistance. For the Order. For Hogwarts. With Luna.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Luna is eccentric as usual and Ginny devises a plan to sneak off to Hogwarts.


	3. Chapter 3

Ginny admits that Phlegm looks okay in her wedding dress. The stress from sneaking Harry to the Burrow with the Order charmed to cream on her under eyes. Her slender arms and collarbone peak from behind the lace. She wishes her own stocky arms would look half as good tonight in her cousin’s old dress.

Luna enchants the bride’s hair for the 16th time with a furrowed brow. One of a creative sort, rather than one of frustration. Fleur is chortling on and on about the wedding plans. Ginny wonders how Luna can keep up with such a serene and unbothered expression.

Fleur looks through a pile of clips and ties. As Luna wraps another strand in the ribbons of magic, it’s clear that Phlegm’s belch-worthy flower perfume has been hardly noticeable this whole time. Luna had a very earthy scent. The smell of incense and some dried mushrooms and bark tea. Kind of a mix of garden dirt, incense and rising dough. Unassuming and tangy, like the taste of orange peel on the roof of your tongue on a summer’s day. 

She remembers this August two years ago, practicing her overhand shot with George. Giving her crap for not listening to his instructions as she stubbornly served the ball all over the place. She could probably hand him some crap back now that one of the Shit Eaters hacked his ear off. She notes down the hilarious comeback and grins a bit too cheerfully.

“Geenee, get me ze pearl clip from ze jewelery case s’il vous plait.” Phlegm bats her lashes in that nauseating way that makes Harry and Ron drool over her. As if she needs an excuse to leave.

\--

Since George is being nursed back to health in the family room under Nurse Mum’s supervision, Phelgm and Fixer-Upper (aka Bill) have moved to the twin’s old bedroom. Phlegm was only too happy to have more space to fill with her useless shit. However when Ginny enters the room, its surprisingly sparse: only a single suitcase, the dress bag and a carry on for her jewelry and makeup.

Being good at finding (and catching) small objects, Ginny finds the clip upsetting quickly and heads into the laundry room. She charms the door shut crashes on the guest-cot. Anything better than to listen to Fleur for a few more hours.

She can’t stand not getting a full-night’s sleep. From the moment she heard Remus screaming at Harry outside the window in the middle of the night three nights ago, to the talk of territory wards heading into the wee hours of the morning, Ginny wished her stupid brother would just elope. She had begun to side with Xenophilius – she too hated weddings.

The room is stocked with Fred and George’s trick-experiments and old linen. The curling poster of Beedle the Barb covering a crack in the wall. Downstairs, the comforting tone of mum and dad having a tiff. The afternoon sun making the wood and laundered sheets smell like lavender. She gives her limbs a successful stretch and sighs when the muscles tense and relaxes over the quilt. Not wishing to move an inch, she counts the dust bunnies in the air.

\--

Sometime later, she rolls to the side and drags the blankets over the rays. Her breath muffling in the fabric. She stretches her hip, feels the fabric tuck into a very tender spot, and groans softly.

She counts the ticks from the water boiler. The best part about being the youngest is that nobody notices when you’re gone. As long as you don’t cause trouble over the radar, you’re gold.

She runs through the set in the last Harpies game, particularly the sharp side-sweep. She remembers she needs new laces for her flying boots. She makes a note to pack the boots when she leaves for Hogwarts after the wedding. She hopes Hagrid won’t notice her forged signature on the Enrollment permission form. She hopes Neville’s grandma won’t ask too many questions when she crashes at his place for a few nights.

The whole operation is making her stressed and she focuses back on the hangers overhead. The canopy of old curtains mum hadn’t taken to mending sways its tangled waves.

Nobody would notice if she’s gone for another hour. She flicks open the latch of the old book bag and takes out a trashy magazine. After flipping to her favorite pages and closes her eyes and flows through her fantasies.

\--

One moment she's lying in bed and thinking about the colour that the sky turns at four in the morning.

Then an unfulfillable itch runs its warm fingers over her body and curls over the sheets. It patters over her temples and slips down her neck and thighs.

And just when she thinks it will make its way to the hallway, it bends around her toes and into a hot garden of sensation.

Over and over, it beckons until she presses it away. Only slightly, so it streams over stronger next time. And the next. Over and over until the grasses are damp with dew and begging to be tended to.

And she tends. Gently at first and harder when she'd found the spot that sends her head into the pillow.

She lets herself bite down and moan as she rolls on her stomach and grinds. And at that moment, the face on the magazine becomes rounder. Her eyes sparkle in tones of blue and her hair tangles with her own. She tightens up when she recognizes her.

She's down the hall, doing Fleur's hair. Humming as she winds the curls through her fingers and caresses the softness. 

She really shouldn't be imagining this. Not now. Not with her so close.

She releases and wraps herself up tightly. It's been weeks since it last happened - imagining Luna in her bed. It isn't right, not after what she had with Harry. Although maybe it's because of him. It had been simpler before, but now she's lonely and fatigued. Mum hadn't let her play for three days. Something about another raid over the house striking her down (even though the first time it had been only a gust of wind which knocked Ginny down).

She needs to release somehow. She tried to cut the strands of blond and dye them black. For a moment, she begins to feel again, but only momentarily.

Only one time.

She pulls the curtains and hides beneath the quilt, now smelling of her anticipation and take herself. Shamelessly. Quickly. The horn blowing as the voices explode in her ears. A high-pitched explosion. She rolls over and hears a knock at the door.

"Gin? You in there?" Harry enters and Ginny hopes she won't have to step out of the blankets right then and there. He swallows and shuts the door behind him.


	4. Chapter 4

Harry has been stalking her all night like a spider. She wishes she had not let Luna Transfigure her dress; now he has even more reason to gape as the ladle spills punch all over mum’s best tablecloth.

Ginny sneaks into the house and begins peeling the lace fabric from her back. As soon she charms the zipper off, she will pull on a sweatshirt and Hermione’s old Muggle jeans. Luna had done a proper job securing the lock on her muscular back and the task seems less possible with each minute.

Ginny sucks her stomach in and arches her back as she snakes her hand for the latch.

“Did you, uh, need a hand?” _Fucking Harry._ He’s standing at the door like a pathetic little puppy. As if she was the one who broke up with him.

“No.” Ginny does not want to give him the satisfaction of touching her bare back, even though she misses him immensely. She’d rather look like the idiot she was, fumbling with the charming zipper than admit she needs help.

“Listen, can we talk?”

About the breakup or the fact that he hid his Secret Mission from her?

“The bloke you were dancing with was pretty close to you.” He shifts from side to side, taking the last sip of punch.

“Are you serious? That’s my cousin.” As if he was jealous she was dancing with someone else when he hadn’t bothered to ask her even once. Harry let out a relieved sound.

“This is what you came to talk to me about? And not the fact you’ll be hunting Horcruxes without me?”

“I was going to tell you.”

“Harry are you damn serious? My brother can’t even find shit in his bedroom. You expect him to find remnants of the Dark Lord’s soul in the middle of the forest? Hermione I understand, but Roonil Wazlib?”

“He’s my best friend.”

“And I’m what? Some girl tagging along with you for six years?”

“You’re different. Besides Ron’s seen this guy-“

“And WHO got taken to the Chamber of Secrets in Year two? Who talked to Riddle through his diary? Who helped organize the DA when everyone said it was a joke? Who was the first one to come with you to the Ministry?”

She began ripping the fabric around the zipper, hoping her cutting charm would release her.

“I can’t lose you, Ginny, I can’t lose someone else I love-“

“It’s not always about you, Chosen One! I bet it's hard to imagine with that crown on your head that Voldemort’s rebirth is affecting us all. I mean look at Bill and Phlegm. You think they want to have their wedding in a tent outside our fucking house that’s surrounded by wards? You think George likes having one ear? Oh I bet you thought it was real funny when he didn’t arrive by dad’s car to pull you from Privet Drive.”

“Stop-“

“No!” Ginny slams her hands on the kitchen counter. “And what’s more, you’re a damn coward Harry. You could have told me the breakup was because of the war or the fact you’re fucking Hermione…but you made it about you again. Look at me, I’m Harry Potter, everyone I love gets killed in front of me. I don’t need anyone's help.”

“Shut the fuck up Ginny, you insufferable bitch-“

“You fucking prat-“

Ginny hexes the glass from Harry’s hands and shatters it on the floor. A bandaged man at the door startles the pair. George walks over to Harry and grabs him by the shirt collar.

“What did you call my sister?”

“We were just talking mate.”

“You shut your bloody mouth, Harry. It's bad enough you came to Billy’s wedding after breaking her heart, now I see you running your words at her.”

Ginny is almost touched by George’s words. But her brother really shouldn’t be getting into fights when his bleeding only stopped hours ago. Thankfully, Harry understands that and backs off, but not before George lands him a punch to the jaw.

“Ginny where on Earth were you? You’re dad’s waiting for his dance.” Molly Weasley pushes open the kitchen door followed by a half-eaten tray of devilled eggs.

“Harry love, what’s happened to your jaw? George, back to bed!”

“I’m not leaving until Harry leaves.” George uncharms Ginny’s dress and she storms to her room.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Changing.” Ginny is halfway up the stairs with the zipper down her back when her mum bellows:

“Ginevra Weasley, don’t you dare walk away from me. You zip that dress right up and go dance with your father.”

Molly charms the zipper swiftly into place.

“I hate you.” She repeats. “I hate you, I hate everyone, I hate this fucking wedding and this dress.”

“You watch your tongue, young lady. Those words might be the last you ever say to me.”

Ginny marches down until she’s eye to eye with her. “Good, well I hope they are. I hope we all get cursed and this tent burns to the ground. I hope I never have to see you again.”

Molly stands back, her wand lowering. She uncharms the dress and it slips from her daughter’s shoulders. Once in her room, Ginny throws the slip on the floor and pulls out the jeans and sweatshirt. Then, contemplating, she picks up the dress and places it in mum’s hamper.

Her mother never understood her. She’d always wished her little girl was her copy: quiet, feminine, sweet and homely. No traits Ginny possesses. The wad of black lace in the hamper was a reminder of how yet again she failed to be her family’s perfect little girl.

Ginny casts _Muffliato_ and screams. She buried her eyes in the cups of her hands and let the tears flow down her freckled cheeks. She wishes more than anything she could go down and apologize to her mum. The thought of Harry seeing her red, swollen eyes was more than she could handle.

She picks up a Muggle ping-pong bat and bounces the ball off the plastic paddle. She remembers when her dad brought it home from the Ministry and tried teaching her and the brothers how to use it. He snapped the elastic and the wooden sphere plopped straight into mum’s porridge pot. He’d charmed the elastic since the incident.

With each hit, she kills the sounds of dancing below.

* * *

Luna collapses beside her along the Garden wall. She plucks the sunflower off her waves and tucks it behind Ginny’s ear. The slight touch is welcoming even though Ginny wanted to be alone.

“Cheer up.”

It was easy for her to say. In the years she’d know Luna, she could hardly a time when the pools of blue eyes swelled up in sadness or when that dreamy expression had been wiped from her face.

“A flower?”

“Not just a flower.”

Luna extends a wrapped bundle of leaves and lights it with the tip of her wand. Taking a deep drag, she blows the smoke from her nose. The smoke swirls and takes the shape of a dancing hare. She exhales and the ruffles on her chest sink into the grass.

Ginny throws caution to the wind and takes a taste of the hash. When the bitterness subsides, she leans onto Luna’s shoulder and gazes into the sky.

The night stars have never looked brighter among mum’s rose bushes. She’d never bothered to learn their names until she became friends with Luna.

“There’s Aquila with the wings.” She points to a large star with a couple of floating points forming wings.

“And that’s the fish?”

“Dorado.” Luna lets the smoke flow from her lips and the grey fish floats by in front of the three lights, flicking its tail. “And that one is the constellation of Assholitis.”

Ginny was sure that wasn’t a real figure in mythology, but the shape took the form of Harry down to two stars for his glasses. She gave Luna props for creativity.

“Sure looks like him.”

“Did you know he never danced with at Slughorn’s Christmas party?”

“Prat. I wonder why he pretends to care when it's clear he only thinks of himself.”

“I did get some rather good content from the vampire. Edward Collins was an exchange professor from Transylvania and he was a far better date than Harry.”

The stars merge with the swirls of smoke. Luna puts her hand into hers and gives it a comforting squeeze. “We’ll find you someone better than Harry.”

At that moment, Ginny wants to tell her she’d rather not date at the moment. But Luna goes off on a tangent about how any guy would be happy to have her as a girlfriend with such passion. She doesn’t want to destroy Luna’s guilty pleasure of a hobby in the middle of the war, even if that pleasure is matchmaking.

The warmth of her hand and the running fingers send a tingle to her chest. The stars flicker. One of them moves across the sky. Likely a comet.

Three flicks move alongside it. The stars zip across the sky and sparks fly into the distance. She feels the ground shaking and takes another drag. Suddenly a hand grabs her. Remus’s lips are moving and the rose bushes blur into the fire in the distance.

He hoists her up and drags her across the lawn. The tent is on fire. Figures dart across the mirage of capes. Then it hits her. They've been attacked. But she is too tired to care, too distanced to move. She thinks she hears her mum’s voice calling her name before Grimmauld place appears before her eyes.

The last words she will ever tell her mother was that she hated her.


End file.
